


It's Only Me (Win or Lose)

by soshedances



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Sharing a Bed, a disgusting amount of fluff, comeback era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-01 05:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17861021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soshedances/pseuds/soshedances
Summary: Three Dreams.Two Voicemails.One Phone Call.or, how Tessa Virtue comes to realize she might be in love with one Scott Moir





	It's Only Me (Win or Lose)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm baaaaaaaack and with just as many excessive italics as before!
> 
> Many thanks my two wonderful beta readers, iwantthemtostay, and especially peacefulboo for her patience and encouragement with this one!
> 
> Title and inspiration taken from the song 'It's Only Me' by [Dessa.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBZSZDutgT4)

_September 2016, Montréal_

Tessa jolts awake, a cold sweat causing her pajamas to cling to her skin as she shoots out of bed. She scrambles across the room, flicking on the ceiling light before her brain catches up to her body and she stammers to a halt.

Her heart is pounding in her chest as she scans the room. Squinting through the blinding change in brightness, her eyes hover briefly over the untouched left side of the bed before registering the time on the clock.  _11:49pm_. She groans. She's been asleep for less than three hours, if you can even call it that.

The room plunges back into darkness as she removes her hand from the switch and retraces her steps towards the covers she flung aside moments ago. Burrowing underneath them, she tries to steady her breathing, to calm the adrenaline still rushing through her veins.

 _In for 4. Hold for 7. Out for 8._  
She closes her eyes,  
_In for 4. Hold for 7. Out for 8._  
She feels her pulse beginning to slow.  
_In for 4. Hold for 7. Out for 8._  
His faces flashes across her vision. She wishes he was here to hold her.  
_In for 4. Hold for 7. Out for 8._  
She wraps herself around a pillow instead, pulls the blankets even tighter to her frame.  
_In for 4. Hold for 7. Out for 8._

Eventually her breathing evens out and she finds herself staring at the ceiling. She's not sure what she wants more - for sleep to return, or for the morning to arrive as quickly as possible. It's been a while since she experienced one of these nightmares and for them to return on the eve of their first competition feels particularly inauspicious. She knows she won’t really feel grounded again unless she speaks to Scott, until she is reassured that the dream was just that and nothing more. She could call him, he would pick up the phone if she did, but where would she start?

The thing is, she’s never told Scott about these nightmares. How could she, when he’s been at the centre of every single one? The circumstances change each time, but the basic outline remains the same. He’s always there, just out of reach, but the second she decides that she needs him or wants to close the gap, he’s gone, vanishing into thin air.

When they were younger, it was like watching the two them stuck in the plot of the latest movie they’d seen. _Buttercup chasing after Westley, Jack and Rose in the freezing waters of the Atlantic Ocean, Romeo and Juliet discovering their mistakes too late._ She would awaken to the feeling that something was slightly off, but it quickly faded away into the foggy recesses of her morning mind. By the time she met Scott in the car or at the rink, it was easily dismissed as nothing but a strange dream.

Over time, they seem to have become less like dreams about other people, and more like straight up nightmares.  
  
_She loses Scott in a crowd of people at a competition and he doesn’t return in time, so Marina forces her to skate with a stranger in his place.  
_

_Scott decides that he would prefer to partner with his current girlfriend instead, and leaves her in the dust as he wins the Olympic gold medal with someone else at his side.  
_

_The anesthesia from her second surgery wears off only for her to discover that Scott has disappeared entirely from her past, that she is the only one who can recall him being in her life.  
_

She knows this last one is a little dramatic, but when she wakes to tears staining her pillowcase, she has to remind herself that some of it is grounded in reality. He left her before, and even though he’s made promises to never let it happen again, her fears are still valid.

This, however, is the first time that a nightmare has come so close to real life.

They’d taken the ice, as they will tomorrow afternoon, ready to perform their Prince short dance. The nerves that usually faded with the announcement of their names had grown out of control and her entire body was shaking by the time they aligned with their starting positions. Then, everything that could go wrong, had gone _disastrously_ wrong. They’d somehow scraped through to the end before being laughed off the ice, the crowd tittering that this comeback had been one giant mistake. She’d been okay up until that point because she had Scott’s arm around her shoulder and the support of their coaches in the Kiss and Cry. It was afterwards, when still slightly out of breath, Scott had pulled her into the locker room and told her that the audience was right, that the illusion of normalcy had started to crumble. He’d continued on to tell her that he couldn’t do this anymore, that he was too old, too out of shape, that it would be a mistake to continue with this two year plan when he could be pursuing other dreams. Dreams that involved a dog and a family and a white picket fence. Dreams that did not involve her. He’d left her, tears streaming down her face as she’d called after him to wait, had chased him down the hall of the arena for everyone to see. It was then that she had bolted out of bed and back to reality.

She twists and turns underneath the covers as she tries to come to terms with this uncomfortable version of events that her subconscious has constructed. The first part on its own doesn’t bother her. She’s spent almost 19 years dealing with pre-competition jitters, she knows better than to give any power to thoughts of what could go wrong, can identify that the best way to battle them is to visualize her way through the ideal performance instead.

Taking another deep breath, she rolls flat onto her back and does just that. She works through the isolated dynamics of the opening sequence, feels the weight of her blade carving the ice as she glides through the Midnight Blues. She pictures the blur of the boards as she executes her twizzles with optimal speed and power, eyes the ceiling as she curves her spine backwards into the final lift, before sliding to a halt as Scott thrusts her hand triumphantly into the air.  
  
_Scott_. His words are ultimately what have left her unsettled. Well, dream Scott's words. She pulls herself upright and reaches over to click on the bedside lamp. There's no way that she can call real Scott for comfort without having to explain the actions and sentiments he'd voiced in her dream. It would be tantamount to opening the Pandora's box of feelings that she's packed away over the years and she’s so not ready to deal with that at this hour of the night (or possibly ever). Instead, she pulls a small journal and a pen from the bedside drawer. Turning to a fresh page, she begins to write…  
  
\- - -  
  
_She’s walking slowly towards him, vaguely aware of the people buzzing in conversation on either side of her. She can’t hear them, she can only focus on the clean pressed lines of his suit, drawing her eyes upwards from the shine of his shoes to the well-tailored fit of his jacket. She admires how his fluffy hair has been gently coaxed into submission, with one singular strand still escaping to curve across his brow. Pulled towards his ever radiant smile, she finds herself mirroring it as she draws closer, meeting his eyes to see them crinkling at the corners with a pure joy she’s witnessed only a few times in her life. Except he’s not looking at her, his gaze drifting over her shoulder as the smile grows even wider and tears suddenly threaten to collect on his lashes. She turns her head to follow the same path, and then freezes, a sharp gasp escaping without her permission._

_There, at the other end of the aisle, is Kaitlyn Lawes. She is a vision in white tulle and lace, golden tresses illuminated from behind as the late afternoon sun filters through the church windows. A church. She’s in a church. Scott is getting married and she’s in the church, standing in the aisle, almost at the altar, but she isn’t the bride._

_She wants to laugh, or to cry, or to feel anything other than shock, but she doesn’t seem to be able to do either as a nameless hand guides her down into a seat. She watches the scene unfold before her like a spectator in some form of twisted horror film. Through the sounds of a string quartet playing as Kaitlyn proceeds down the aisle, through the prayers and the readings and the hymns, she is stuck, desperate but unmoving as she tries to breathe, to make any sound at all. She registers the pastor's voice, asking one crucial question before the vows are exchanged._

_“If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace…”_

_She finally succeeds, the air ripping from her lungs with a scream of-_

“NO!!!!!!”

Tessa lurches awake, the echo of her own voice startling her back to the present. Fingers grasping at tangled sheets, she struggles to orient herself in the unfamiliar surroundings as her heart hammers against her ribs. Light peeks through cracks in the hotel curtains and the digital alarm clock glares angry red numbers at her. _8:29am_. No. _8:30am._ The minute shifts as a blaring alarm announces itself from her phone, trying to rouse her from the depths of slumber. _Too late_ , she bitterly thinks to herself, fumbling to turn it off before flopping back onto the bed.

 _What the fuck was that?_ She'd slept soundly the night before their short dance, nerves firmly under control and no nightmares in sight. She had assumed that she was in the clear, that the last dream was merely a fluke that had coincided with a competition. Apparently she was wrong, although she's not sure how this one fits into the usual trend.

She's pulled out of her daze by a series of rapid knocks at the door. Throwing on the first hoodie within reach, she pads over to the door and squints through the peephole just as Jordan calls out.

"It's me! I come bearing coffee and breakfast!"

Tessa unhooks the chain and opens the door, allowing Jordan to slide into the room without disrupting the contents of the tray in her hand. Locking the door, she turns to find herself being tackled into a hug.

"Good morning!" Her voice is muffled into the crook of Jordan's shoulder. She relaxes into the hug, feeling slightly more settled by the contact and familiarity. She clings just a little longer than normal and Jordan notices, pulling back as if to take stock of her demeanor.

"You okay Tess? Did you sleep well?"

"Mmmmhmm," she mumbles, avoiding any real commitment to an answer. "Did you mention coffee?"

"Right, coffee before conversation! I see this comeback hasn't made you any more of a morning person." Jordan nudges her with an elbow before turning to scoop up a cup from the tray she'd placed on the desk. "Almond milk latte, extra hot."

Tessa accepts gratefully, inhaling the sweet smell of caffeine wafting from the lid as she curls her body into one of the two armchairs opposite the bed. She takes a sip and sighs blissfully. "Jord, you are my favourite person right now."

"You haven't seen breakfast yet! I wasn't sure what you would feel like, so I tried to cover all the bases." Jordan turns, rifling through the bag before pulling out an assortment of containers.

"We've got a smoothie bowl, with extra nuts and granola on the side. Or, if you prefer, there's a breakfast wrap with egg whites, avocado, spinach and..." She wrinkles her forehead in a dramatic display of over-thinking. "a bunch of other healthy sounding things that I've forgotten about, but I was assured it was both nutritious and delicious! Unfortunately poached eggs weren't an option."

Tessa retaliates by sticking her tongue out, because she is not above behaving like a child when it comes to jabs about her love of breakfast food. Scooting forward out of her seat, she cracks open the takeaway containers to assess Jordan's offerings before selecting the smoothie bowl and granola.

She munches away as Jordan chatters about the drama with her current client, nods attentively as she relays the details of Poppy's latest obsession with the Bubble Guppies and how it had overtaken her last babysitting session. Her mind starts to wander when Jordan shifts the topic to the salacious changeroom gossip of the barre studio she’s been attending, winding its way back to the subject of her latest nightmare.  
  
She should write it out, she thinks. Writing has always helped her to sort through her feelings. There’s something about putting it all down on paper that makes it feel less consuming and more manageable. If she can lay it out in front of her, look at all the pieces of the individual nightmares, maybe she’ll find a way to tame them before they escalate any further.

"Tess. Tess... Tessa!"

She blinks, finding herself staring at the bottom of the now empty smoothie bowl as her spoon comes up clean. Judging by the look on Jordan's face, this is not the first time she's tried to shovel air into her mouth and she is definitely not impressed.

"Sorry, I'm sorry! I'm listening I promise!" Tessa places the bowl back on the table and picks up the coffee cup, curling her hands around it as if it were a shield. "You were saying something about Karen and the annoying pitch of her teaching voice?"

Jordan narrows her eyes even further.

“That was several minutes ago… where’d you go Tess? Clearly your mind wasn’t here!”

Tessa shifts uncomfortably in her seat, trying to decide how much of the truth she wants to divulge. As she gathers her thoughts, she watches Jordan’s eyes slide down her body before she quickly scans the rest of the room. When she returns her gaze, there’s a smirk growing at the corner of her lips that Tessa knows far too well.

“So, how long have you been sleeping with Scott?”

“JORDAN! You know it’s not like that!”

“Isn’t it?” She challenges, one eyebrow cocked as she prepares to launch into full lawyer mode. “The left side of the bed hasn’t been touched, or was neatly made this morning - I know you prefer the right when sharing. There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, a double set of towels, and there’s no way that the sweater you’re wearing belongs to you. Skate Canada has had your measurements for years, they know better than to provide Tessa Virtue with ill-fitted clothing. So… do you want to try answering that question again?”

Jordan maintains eye contact as she finishes her evaluation, and Tessa can feel her carefully constructed walls crumbling at the thought of sharing this with someone else. Maybe she can use her sister as a sounding board instead of her pen and paper.

“It’s not… It’s still not like THAT,” Tessa sighs.“It’s just sleeping, and he wasn’t here last night. I woke up less than three minutes before you knocked.”

Jordan’s eyes soften as she probes further.

“Okay, so it’s not like that. I know you two have the weirdest definition of friendship known to mankind, but ‘just sleeping’? You’re going to have to give me a little more context here, T. What’s going on?”

Tessa fiddles with the sleeve on her coffee cup, carefully shredding a corner as she works up the courage to say the words out loud. Jordan gives her space, waiting for her to begin on her own terms.

“Scott and I have been sharing a bed, more often than not. It started when we fell asleep on the couch while watching Netflix. Twice. In the same week. It’s not the most comfortable place to nap after super intense training, so I suggested that maybe we watch from bed instead. That way if one of us falls asleep, there aren’t any aching joints or sore muscles to be worked out in physio the next day. I meant it to be practical, a sort of back-up plan…”

“But?” Jordan prods her to continue.

“It’s kind of become a habit? We eat dinner, we split the dish washing and then we curl up on someone’s bed to watch a show, It gets to bedtime and it’s cozy and neither of us want to move, so we just go to sleep.”

Jordan looks slightly incredulous.

“Plus, it’s nice to have the company? Scott makes sure I get up on time when it’s stupid o’clock in the morning. He cooks us breakfast while I make coffee or pack snacks for the day and the odd evening snuggle session definitely doesn’t hurt. I’m pretty sure we both sleep better with the other person there.” Tessa shrugs. She’s fully aware what this looks like from the outside.

“So you’re telling me that you’re essentially enjoying all of the benefits of a domestic relationship with Scott Moir, minus the romance and sex?” Jordan stares at her as though she’s grown an extra head while speaking.

“I guess? I hadn’t really thought of it that way.”

“Tessa Jane!” Jordan swats her across the shoulder. “You’re basically living out your teenage fantasy and I CANNOT BELIEVE you forgot to tell me!”

Tessa rolls her eyes and rubs at her arm. “That reaction is exactly why I did not tell you! There is nothing to tell! We sleep in the same bed, but otherwise our friendship hasn’t changed.”

Jordan lets out an exasperated sigh. “Bullshit. You’re telling me that wasn’t the reason you just drifted into outer space while I was speaking to you?”

“No! Well, kind of?” It’s Tessa’s turn to sigh. “The thing is, when we did our planning with B2Ten we both stated we would be sleeping alone the majority of the time. We knew we wouldn’t, or couldn’t, share rooms when we were away at competitions. I couldn’t have foreseen that separation being an issue, because when has it ever been in the past? It turns out that new habits die just as hard as old ones. Not being able to have Scott here overnight was a lot more frustrating than I had anticipated.” She lets out a bitter chuckle as she finishes her last statement.

“In what way?” Jordan seems genuinely curious, and she supposes that maybe it’s best to just come clean entirely.

“Did I ever mention having weird stress dreams before competition? Silly things like Scott getting lost and Marina deciding that I have to skate with a new partner at the last minute?”

Jordan hums in acknowledgement. “I seem to remember you mentioning them. I’m assuming they’re back?”

“Yes and they’re… different this time? Or at least, the one last night was. For the first time it wasn’t about skating.” She retracts further into her hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands to keep herself busy. “I dreamt that Scott was getting married to Kaitlyn, and I was stuck watching from a pew, unable to move or speak. I woke myself up yelling…”

Jordan’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Yelling?”

“When the pastor asked if anyone had just cause why they couldn’t be married. I yelled ‘No’ and woke myself up. Then my alarm went off, you knocked on my door, and now we’re here.” She peers up from fiddling with her hands and see her sister’s entire face melt into understanding.

“Tess, do you really think nothing has changed? You might not be ready to admit it yet, but a dream where you protest Scott getting married? That reads pretty loud and clear to me.”

Tessa steps back and takes a moment to sift through the past several months and examine them with this new lense. She considers the tender devotion that Scott has shown her in every facet of their new lives in Montréal and finds the same affection mirrored in her own actions. She analyzes the stability of their working relationship, measures it against the value of feeling the warmth of Scott’s body and the ease it brings her heart to see his smile when she first wakes. She comes away finding nothing but balance, no matter what angle or approach she takes. Has anything shifted in their relationship? No. If anything it feels more settled and at peace.

An uncontrolled smile slips across her face as a familiar feeling of fullness overtakes her chest. _Oh… OH!_

She finds Jordan watching her with an amused expression.

“Jeje,” She whispers, “What do I do?”

“I can’t answer that one for you Tess. If you’re with happy the way things are and don’t want to disrupt the status quo, then doing nothing might be the wisest choice. But if you’re having nightmares that are so bad they’re preventing you from sleeping? Which I’m assuming Scott doesn’t know about, then maybe you need to tell him how you’re feeling. Either way, I’m here for you.”

Tessa stands, pulling Jordan up too so that she can hug her tightly, as she whispers her gratitude into her shoulder. She bids her sister goodbye not long after, citing her need to pack her bags and head to the arena. She tells her that she’ll see her after the free dance - hopefully to celebrate.

Later, as she’s rotating around Scott’s shoulders at full speed, the thought strikes Tessa that she already trusts him with every other part of her body, why should the question of her heart be any different? The simplicity of this idea shakes her so much that she bobbles her first twizzle, and she quickly cues herself back into competition mode. She files it away for after they win (or lose, however unlikely), to be examined without the prying eyes of the world upon her. Maybe, just maybe, this isn’t as complicated as it seems.

\- - -

*bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzz*  
*bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzz*  
  
_Tessa is pulled from the depths of slumber by the repetitive buzzing noise emanating from her bedside table. She rolls over, expecting to come in contact with Scott’s solid weight and is confused when the other side of her bed is cold and empty._  
  
*bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzz*  
*bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzz*  
  
_She fumbles for the phone, desperate to stop the noise, and feels a fraction of relief when she sees Scott’s name on the caller ID. It doesn’t last for long when she registers the time at the top of her screen. 4:17am. Frowning, she picks up._  
  
_“Hello?” Her voice is still heavy with sleep and she clears her throat before trying again. “Scott? Where are you?”  
  
“Tessa? Tessa Virtue? Sorry to wake you.”  
  
Oh. The voice on the other end of the line isn’t Scott. In fact, she doesn’t recognize the voice at all.  
  
“Hello? Who is this?”  
  
“This is Detective Linda Pearson of the London Police service. I’m calling because you’re listed as Scott Moir’s emergency contact.”  
  
Tessa bolts upright, the bottom dropping out of her stomach. “What’s wrong? Where’s Scott?”  
  
“Scott was involved in a motor vehicle accident. His car appears to have been struck by a drunk driver. He’s being transported to the hospital as we speak. I would suggest you meet us there as soon as possible.”  
  
Tessa is already scrambling to find her keys. “Yes, I’m on my way!”  
  
She doesn’t remember dressing, or driving, or parking her car. The next thing she knows, she’s running down the endless maze of halls in the hospital, desperate to find Scott. She turns a corner and runs full force into Alma, bringing both of them to the ground.  
  
_“Where’s Scott?! What happened?”_  
  
Alma just shakes her head, and Tessa realizes she’s crying.  
  
“He’s gone Tess, he didn’t make it.”  
  
“No. No, that’s not possible.” She crumbles even further into Alma’s arms, sobs overtaking her. “No! He can’t be gone! He was supposed to be with me!”  
  
_*bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzz*  
*bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzz*  
*bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzz*  
  
Tessa scrambles upright, sobs still wracking her body as she searches for the source of the noise. She locates her phone beneath a pillow and slams ringer to silent before tossing it aside, trying desperately to get a grip on, what she hopes is, reality.  
  
Scrunching the duvet into balls with her fists, she wills her lungs to work normally. She can feel the drying paths of tears streaming down her cheeks as she takes stock of her surroundings, each detail pulling her further away from the world of her nightmare.  
  
Navy blue bed covers? _Not her London home or her Montréal apartment._  
Bright strip of light radiating from the bottom of the door? _Definitely a hotel room._  
Green numbers on the bedside clock shining 3:22am? _Japan? NHK._ It all comes flooding back to her.  
  
She unclenches her fists and takes a shuddering breath. _It was just a dream, it’s okay. It was just a dream, it’s not real._ She finds herself repeating this mantra out loud as she retrieves her phone, flicking it on to discover that Jordan is the offending culprit who has disrupted her sleep. She’d never been good at grasping time zones and apparently the fourteen hour difference between Sapporo and Toronto is no exception.  
  
Four dancing cat gifs greet her when she opens her messages, along with wishes of good luck for the coming day. She responds:

> **Tessa Virtue, 3:24am** \- You are the worst. It’s nearly 3:30 in the morning here.  
>    
>  **Jordan Virtue, 3:24am** \- Shit! I am the worst! Sorry for waking you :(  
>    
>  **Tessa Virtue, 3:25am** \- If we bomb tomorrow because I’m half asleep, it’s your fault.  
>    
>  **Tessa Virtue, 3:25am** \- love you!  
>    
>  **Jordan Virtue, 3:26am** \- love you too! I accept full responsibility should disaster strike. Now turn off your ringer and go back to sleep!

_Yeah right,_ she thinks, _not after that nightmare!_  
  
She briefly contemplates calling Jordan, but that would mean owning up to the fact that over a month later she still hasn’t told Scott about the dreams or her developing feelings for him. Instead, she pulls out the journal that she’s been keeping and begins to scrawl across a blank page.  
  
An hour and several pros versus cons lists later, she’s no closer to solving her dilemma. At this point she is self aware enough to recognize the pattern here - her fear of losing Scott, in any way, shape or form. Her most recent nightmare had been the ultimate manifestation of that loss, and she knows that she can’t wait any longer to tell him how she feels. If she were to lose him for real, she wouldn’t want it to happen without him knowing how deeply she loves him.

Turning back to her notebook, she begins to draft a... letter? Speech? She’s not really sure what form this declaration should take, but she wants to get it all down before she loses the courage. She scribbles away furiously, keeps herself from pausing to editorialize until she can get the entire thing out. When she’s finally satisfied, she sets the book aside, flicks off the light and tries to reclaim what little sleeping time there is left.

All too soon her alarm is screeching at her to get out of bed and face the day. She still doesn’t have a plan as to how or when she should tell Scott, but waiting until after their free dance seems like a no brainer. She holds the words she’s written close to her heart, hugs Scott a little tighter than normal before they take the ice, and then pours every overwhelming emotion she’s felt in the last twelve hours into the dance. She’s struggling to breathe by the end, but the release is cathartic and leaves her feeling more grounded.

They win (a small comfort) and are immediately swept away for the press circuit, gala practice and the subsequent celebrations. She can’t seem to catch more than a brief moment alone with Scott, who manages to leave the party well before her. By the time she makes it back to her room it’s just after midnight and all she wants to do is sleep. Crawling into bed, she catches sight of her notebook tucked underneath her pillows. She scans over her bullet points from earlier that morning, then before she can lose the nerve, she dials Scott’s number.

It rings and rings and rings before the click of the answering machine prompts her to leave a voicemail. Glancing at her notes one last time, she begins.

“ _Hey, it's only me. I know it’s late - I’m glad I didn’t wake you. You’ve certainly earned your sleep after a day like today!_  
_I know I said it earlier, but I wanted to tell you again how proud of you I am. Because I am so, so proud and I love you immensely. We say this to each other frequently, but the thing is, I’ve begun to realize that maybe it means more to me._  
_Scott, I don’t want to play it safe and keep this to myself anymore. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else, in an all encompassing way that fills my heart with warmth and my soul with a joy unlike any other. It gives me such peace just to be in your presence, and I’ve missed our sleepovers not just this weekend, but every night that we’ve been apart. I don’t want to pressure you if you don’t feel the same way, and god I hope you do, but life’s too short for you not to know just how much I care. So, goodnight Scott, I love you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”_

She hangs up before collapsing backwards into her pillows. _There’s no take backs now_ , she thinks as she drifts off into a restless slumber. Her dreams are filled with an endless stream of ringing phones and buzzing alarm clocks that she can never quite manage to silence.

When she wakes the next morning, it’s to a persistent knocking on her door. She stumbles across the room to open it, sleep still blurring her eyes when she finds Scott on the other side, phone in hand.

“Tess?”

She yawns as he brushes past her into the room. “Yeah?”

“I woke you up, I’m sorry.” He looks like he’s about ready to wear a hole in the carpet as he paces back and forth in front of her. “I can go-”

“Scott…”

“You were sleeping, I can leave you to sleep! You should sleep!”

“Scott-”

“I just…”

“Scott!” He finally makes eye contact and stops. “Come here.”

She extends her arms, and he tentatively steps forwards into them. As he folds himself around her and settles his head into the crook of her neck, she feels the tension drain from his body.

He whispers, “T, did you really mean it?”

 _I’m in love with an idiot_ , she thinks, as a smile spreads across her face.

“Every word.”

He pulls back, one hand shifting to cup the back of her head as the other catches her hand against his chest. She thinks there’s the shimmer of a tear forming at the corner of his eye, but she doesn’t have time to absorb it before he presses their foreheads together.

“Good. Because Tessa Virtue, I love, love, love you too.”

He punctuates each word with a kiss, first to her forehead, then to each of her cheeks before landing on right on the tip of her nose. She tilts her head, hoping he’ll take the hint, and as their lips finally meet she thinks that maybe this might be worth waiting through 19 years of nightmares.

\- - -

_Nagoya, December 2017_

They lose the Grand Prix Final and while it shouldn’t feel like an anomaly (god knows they’ve only won it once), silver tastes extra bitter in her mouth after a year of nothing but gold.

It shakes her to the core, feels like a sign from the universe that things are about to go terribly, horribly wrong. Tessa retreats inwards, away from the hushed tones of Patch’s soothing words and the comfort of Scott’s touch, trying desperately to build up her armour against the disappointment of defeat.

Pasting on a smile, she allows Scott to bear the brunt of the questions during the press conference, then exchanges pleasantries and poses for photos at the banquet until she can’t take it anymore. Feigning exhaustion, she calls it an early night and slips away to the silence of her room.

Scott respects her request for space, but as she tosses and turns she realizes that what she really wants is for him to be here, in her bed, sheets and limbs entwined as he teases her for being restless. He'd stroke her hair, offer whispered words of reassurance until she felt safe enough to let sleep claim her, protected within the circle of his arms.

She knows she can’t have that tonight, that it will have to wait until they are back on home soil. Instead she texts him an apology and wishes him sweet dreams. She adds a few extra heart emojis for good measure, then rummages through her suitcase to find one of his t-shirts that she’d pilfered while packing in Montréal. Enveloped by the comfort of his scent (clean linen laundry detergent with a hint of cinnamon and spice), she surrounds herself with pillows and tries to imagine it’s his chest pressed up against her back as she waits for sleep to arrive.

Early the next morning, her phone beeps gently to bring her back to consciousness. She’d slept fitfully, but some sleep is better than none. As she silences the alarm she sees a missed call from Scott, followed by a voicemail notification. Dialing in her password, she presses the phone to her ear.

 _"Hey love, I'm glad this didn't wake you. I wanted to remind you how proud I am of you. Both today and every day._  
_We’ve talked a lot about the process being more important than any prize we could win, but today was the first time we’ve had that reality tested. I can see that it was hard for you and I realised that for me, saying the process is more important than the prize isn’t the truth._  
_What makes this process worthwhile to me is the fact that I get to live every day with you by my side. Your love and trust is much more valuable to me than any medal of any colour, past or future. You’re it for me, Tess, and that goes far beyond this tiny fraction of our competitive lives. I know that as long as we have faith in ourselves and our relationship, then win or lose, we already have our prize._  
_I’m rambling now, but what I wanted to say was that I love you, always, with all of my heart, and I’ll see you in the morning.”_

She can feel a trickle of tears colliding with the corner of her smile as she hangs up and clutches her phone to her chest. She is so, so lucky to be loved by this man.

(She keeps a copy of the voicemail saved to her phone, just as she knows Scott has saved hers from the year before. On the eve of their Free Dance in Pyeongchang, she pours over all her journals and performance notes from the past two years, but the thing that makes her feel the most prepared is playing back the sound of his voice right before she drifts off to sleep.)  
  
\- - -

_London, July 2022_

The humidity wraps about her body, pulling tendrils from her bun as she sits on the patio staring up at the night sky. The cicadas are whirring and the crickets chirping, but otherwise it’s quiet and she breathes deeply, taking in a moment of tranquility ahead of the impending chaos.

“Smells like it might rain,” she murmurs out loud, before picking herself up out of the deck chair and heading for the house. She’s greeted by the much appreciated hum of the air conditioning kicking in and she shivers at the sudden change in temperature as she latches the door behind her.

The house too is quiet, most of the lights turned down when Jordan went to bed about an hour ago. She shutters the remaining ones on her way up the stairs before slipping beneath her crisp sheets. She checks the time on the vintage bedside clock ( _11:49pm_ ) as her phone chimes with a text notification. 

> **Scott Moir, 11:49pm** \- you still awake?

She hits the call button without a second thought and he picks up after the first ring.

“Is this bad luck?” he answers.

She chuckles, “Well, it’s before midnight and we can’t see each other, so technically, no?”

“Good, wouldn’t want to jinx things now!” She can hear the smile in his voice and finds a similar one spreading across her face.

“Smells like it might rain. Hopefully it’ll cool things off overnight.” She snuggles down under the covers, places the phone on the pillow next to her head.

“I hear that’s supposed to be good luck, maybe it’ll counter any mistakes we make here?”

She snorts, “Since when did you become an expert on wedding day superstitions?”

“Do you KNOW how many Moir weddings I’ve been to over the years? So many! It’s impossible not to pick these things up.”

“True, but I thought we agreed we were ignoring those?” She stifles a yawn and hopes that he doesn’t hear it.

“You mean, aside from the one where we don’t see each other until the ceremony…”

She sighs, “Aside from that one, which I’m not gonna lie, I’m about ready to break right now. I miss having you here next to me, even if you snore.”

He gasps in mock horror, “I do not!”

“You do too! Not all the time, but it’s kind of cute when it does happen.” She tries to cover another yawn, but there’s no hiding it this time.

“You think you’re stealthy, but I can hear you silently screaming for sleep from over here, kiddo. Bedtime!”

She pouts, even though she knows he can’t see it. “Stay on the line with me? It’s not the same as having you here, but I don’t want to fall asleep alone…”

“Of course.” She can hear his deep, even breathing and slows her own to match. They sync up with very little effort. “Tess… what are you worried about?”

 _Ugh,_ he knows her so well, she shouldn’t have expected anything less.

She whispers, as if saying it out loud will actually give power to the idea. “What if I have another nightmare?”

She’d told him about the nightmares, on the long plane ride back from Japan all those years ago when he asked what prompted her to finally confess her feelings. She had tried to be vague at first, but eventually the truth came out and he had been momentarily speechless. Wrapping her up in his embrace, he had promised that while he might not be able to be physically present, he would always make sure she fell asleep knowing how deeply he loved her.

“Then you call me, we say a big fuck you to tradition, and I sleep in your bed for the rest of the night! I can even sneak out before dawn if you like, just for old times’ sake.”

She smiles against her pillow, drowsiness beginning to overtake her. “Scott?”

“Yes my love?”

“I love you. A lot.”

“I love you too and I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow. Now get some sleep. Goodnight Tess…”

“G’night Scott…” She mumbles as she gives herself over to sleep. “Can’t wait to marry you too...”

(It comes out sounding a little more like “mawwy,” and she’s pretty sure she hears Scott respond with “mawwiage is what bwings us here today” before she’s completely gone.)

When she wakes, it’s to brilliant sunshine pouring through the curtains and memories of nothing but peaceful dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for stopping by! Don't be afraid to say hello in the comments or you can find me on twitter/tumblr as soshedances18!
> 
> Note: I decided to omit Cale's death prior to NHK from the universe. While I understand that it could've added to the gravity of the situation and the urgency for T to express her feelings, it wasn't something I personally felt comfortable touching upon.


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